


Nephilim Kisses: Jack Kline X Reader

by Liv4Writing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Jack is cute, Nephilim, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liv4Writing/pseuds/Liv4Writing
Summary: As someone who studied demonology and the supernatural in college, (Y/N) has been living with Dean and Sam, helping them out with research for their hunts. But the Winchesters have recently taken someone new under their wings: Jack Kline, a blond-haired, cerulean-eyed boy who they refuse to let you meet. Luckily, you and Jack have other plans and soon become friends. As your friendship blossoms into something more and the two of you begin to explore your fascination with Jack's powers, you start to wonder if Jack is hiding something from you... and whether it might be linked to your own past.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, plots, settings, etc of the incredible show Supernatural! They belong to the writers/producers of the show.
Relationships: Jack Kline/Reader, Jack Kline/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	1. Angels and Monsters

You stepped into the bunker, exhausted from the work of the day. You didn't kill monsters for a living like Sam and Dean Winchester, but research could be just as mentally draining. Since you were a young girl, you'd loved listening to ghost stories around the campfire and that interest led you to study the Biblical, demonology, monsterology, urban legends, and just about everything in between.   
You'd helped the Winchesters out on a case before and the boys had learned to trust you despite the fact that you had just barely graduated college. Sam had kept in touch with you over the years, and you were always a phone call away if the boys needed you to do extra research while they were out doing the dirty work on a hunt. Sometimes that meant scouring local libraries until the sun went down and sneezing from the dust of ancient books, but you loved knowing that you were helping restore the lives of innocent people. The Men of Letters bunker had plenty of books, and more often than not, you were able to do your work with the comforts of your loungewear and some snacks, but you didn't mind going the extra mile every once in a while.

You knew all about the Winchesters- how they'd stopped the apocalypse about a million different times. They were incredible men and you were honored to get to work alongside them.  
You'd never been one for hunting or killing, but you still wished you could go out into the field sometimes and watch how things really went down. Lately, though, it seemed you had even less of a chance of that. The Winchesters had apparently taken on a new charge, a young and startling attractive man who was around your age. Every time you asked about him or spotted him hiding behind the Winchesters and tried to introduce yourself, Dean wouldn't let you anywhere near him. You were starting to think they were holding the poor boy captive.  
But today, your hours of research were rewarded after Dean and Sam defeated the creature they'd been hunting- a Japanese monster called a jikininki. Sam called you, thanking you profusely before relaying the good news: "I finally convinced Dean to let you meet Jack."

At first, you were concerned that the Winchesters had decided to adopt the jikininki, take it home, and name it Jack. Then you realized that Jack was the name of the boy with the gorgeous eyes that the boys were hiding from you.   
"Finally!" You said with a laugh. "His name is Jack, huh?"

"It's not that Dean and I were trying to keep him from you. It's just that... well, Jack has been through a lot. We're being extra careful with who we trust with his identity. But you've been living in the bunker and helping us out long enough, and you seem to be curious about him, so I think you can meet him after the hunt today ."   
Sam's obvious concern for you warmed your heart. "Thank you, Sammy. It means a lot."

You didn't need the Winchesters' permission to do anything- if you'd wanted to meet Jack, you would have, but Sam and Dean obviously cared about Jack and you wanted to respect their wishes. You'd quickly packed up your things from the library and headed home to the bunker, throwing off your shoes and changing into a comfortable tank top as soon as you arrived. You threw on Netflix, made yourself a midnight breakfast of pancakes and syrup, and poured yourself a glass of wine while you waited for the boys to arrive. After a while, you got bored and turned back to your books.

The lore books about angels and demons in the bunker were just as good as any fantasy show. You traced your fingers over a diagram of angel wings. It was even more fascinating to think that they really existed, even if some of them were douchebags. You'd met Cas and Gabriel and loved them both. Part of you had originally wanted to revere them like the otherworldly beings they were, but they were also people, not a research experiment. Cas was a bit serious and awkward, but full of virtue, humor, and could see past Dean's rough exterior. Gabriel could only be described as a class clown. You wondered about Jack and why his identity was so secret. The door opened and a breeze moved through the ever-cold bunker as the Winchesters and Jack entered.

You bounded up excitedly, giving Dean and Sam a hug each, ignoring their bloodstained clothing. It was always good to see them alive. They moved aside so you could see Jack, and you smiled at him cautiously. "I'm happy the Winchesters finally let me meet you," you said. "I'm (Y/N)."

Jack waved. "Hello," he said, the genuinely happy smile on his face making you smile, too. The young hunter stood ramrod straight, his attention focused solely on you. He wore a long-sleeve blue t-shirt, much softer in appearance than the plaid and rugged jackets typical for the Winchesters. You couldn't help but feel that he was young at heart despite being your age and having "been through a lot," as Sam had said. Still, there was something haunted hidden behind his cerulean eyes. You'd seen your fair share too, so maybe the two of you would be good friends. You certainly hoped so- with the way that blond hair flopped over his forehead and that contagious smile, you wouldn't be able to stay away from him for long.

"(Y/N), this is Jack," Sam introduced the two of you. "You may want to sit down for this," he continued. You looked at Sam quizzically but sat as he instructed. Your eyes flitted back to Jack. _He's very attractive, Sam, but I won't faint_ , you thought. You watched the smile slowly begin to fade from Jack's face. He stared at the ground. "Before you start spending time with Jack, you should know that he's Luci—"

"I'm Kelly Kline's son," Jack said suddenly, taking a step closer to you. "I'm not a Winchester officially, but I'm trying to learn how to hunt."  
Sam gave him a strange look. You watched this interaction with some confusion but decided to brush it off as you stood.  
"Then I guess you're out of the loop just like me. I'm a researcher, but I've always been curious about hunts, too. Maybe you'll take me with you sometime?"  
"I'd like that," Jack said at the same time as Dean said, "No way in hell, (Y/N)!"  
You rolled your eyes. "You know I'll do whatever I like, Dean." "I know you will," he grumbled.

"I made pancakes. Do you guys want some?" Your offer seemed to make up for Dean's annoyance with you, as he shoveled his pancakes in irritably.   
"I've never had pancakes," Jack admitted.  
"What the hell? You guys have never taken him to IHOP?"  
Dean shrugged. "Usually breakfast places aren't open during our late-night hunts."  
You gave Jack one with extra chocolate chips and piled on the syrup. When Jack took a bite, his eyes lit up.  
"I guess he has a sweet tooth just like you," Dean said. "Not as bad as Gabriel though."  
The four of you talked about the hunt while you ate.

"I still don't understand," you said. "Normally you never see a jikininki- or, I guess they would be called shokujinki nowadays- in America, only in Japan."  
Jack set his fork down and looked up at you. "I have a theory."   
You raised an eyebrow, urging him to go on. "Chuck- God- is destroying worlds. The jikininki is a creature that is cursed after death to eat human flesh as a punishment for being selfish in life. Maybe God let this creature loose because He also wants to punish me, and Sam and Dean, for not accepting our fate. Our doom."

You were impressed with Jack's ability to match your lore, but you were lost on most of what he was saying. The Winchesters had kept you up to date with their more celestial endeavors, including God trying to kill the other worlds he'd created. But why would he target sweet Jack?  
"Does God have a vendetta against you?" you asked him.  
"Yea, of course," Dean cut in. "Jack is-"  
"Still learning," Jack interrupted, those intense eyes locking with yours. "Chuck loves the Winchesters. But I still make a lot of mistakes."  
"We all make mistakes," you said with a reassuring smile.  
Afterward, Sam cleared everyone's plates and let out an over-exaggerated yawn. "(Y/N), Jack, I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep. I think Dean and I want to give you two some time to talk alone."  
He gave Dean a meaningful look and the older Winchester rolled his eyes in response.  
"Don't stay up too late, okay?"

You listened to the sound of Dean and Sam's footsteps padding away down the halls of the bunker.  
"You like to read, huh, Jack?" you asked.  
Jack nodded, fidgeting with his hands. He seemed nervous.  
You pulled out one of your favorite lore books. You could tell Jack was a bit shy, and you felt that he was hiding something, but you were determined to get him to open up to you.  
"You knew a lot about the jikininki back there. Do you do research too? Maybe I could read to you for a while."  
"Oh, thank you," he said earnestly, "but I know how to read." At first you were hurt, thinking he didn't want to spend time with you.   
"Jack, is there something you're not telling me? I mean, it's okay. We only just met, and everyone has secrets."  
"Some secrets are scarier than others," Jack mumbled.

You dropped the subject for the time being. "Well, maybe I could read to you, even if you do already know how to read. Some people find it relaxing. Sometimes I even listen to audiobooks because it relaxes me so much."  
Jack smiled. "I do like stories. What are you going to read about?"  
"Oh, angels and monsters," you said with a smirk. "They're my favorites."  
"I think I like angels more than monsters," Jack said quickly.  
"You'd be surprised. I've met my fair share of asshole angels and kind monsters."  
"Kind monsters?"  
"Sure. You can't always control who you are, only how you act. Although sometimes you can't even control that. You should know- you're a hunter. What's it like out there, in the real world? With holy fire and angel blades and rock salt?"  
Jack frowned.  
"I like the bunker better. Everything is in control here. (Y/N), I'm not always in control."

You closed your book and stood from the table. "Maybe you should tell me a story instead. Do you want to come to my room?"  
Jack's eyes widened.   
"Are we going to have sex?"  
Your face blushed scarlet and you let the leather-bound book drop like a stone to the floor. It landed on your toe and you squeaked, hopping around like a wounded dog.   
"Jack, what the fuck," you managed.  
"You're hurt. I'm sorry," Jack said. "It's just that Dean told me when a girl asks you to come to her room, it means she wants to have sex. (Y/N), are you alright?"  
The boy took a step towards you and grasped your shoulders, steadying you.   
"Thank you, Jack. You just surprised me."

You continued to hobble pathetically, and in one swift motion, Jack scooped you up bridal style, carefully tucking one arm under your knees and the other supporting your head and shoulders. Now you had an even closer view of those crystal blue eyes and soft lips. If he wanted to, all Jack had to do was tilt his head towards yours ever so slightly...  
But what were you thinking? You'd only just met. You couldn't have a crush on him already.  
"I'm not doing this because I want to have sex," Jack clarified. "It's because you're injured, and I caused it. May I carry you to your bed?"  
A warm feeling spread unbidden through your legs and stomach, and you nodded for fear of betraying your thoughts if you tried to speak.   
You tucked your hands close to Jack's chest as he carried you down the hallway towards your room.

Instead of placing you on the bed and standing aside, he sat on the bed still cradling you so that when you sat up, you were perfectly situated on his lap. "Jack," you said softly, unable to think of anything but his name as you maneuvered around him so you were sitting next to him instead.   
"Are you feeling better now, (Y/N)?"  
"Yes. You were going to tell me a story?"  
His brows furrowed. "I was?"  
You cleared your throat, trying to calm your beating heart.  
"Uh, yea. Maybe about hunting. Earlier, you said you'd be willing to take me hunting sometime. That's more than Dean or Sam will do, anyway. They think I'm incapable, that I'm more book smart than street smart."  
"Well, I'm not a very good hunter," Jack admitted. "I don't know if I could teach you about that. Dean is better at knife throwing."  
"Maybe that's not your thing, then. You're good at research. What about helping me with that?"  
Jack sighed. "Sam is good at that, and you. Besides, the Winchesters have most of the lore memorized already. I'm only good for one thing."  
"What's that?" you asked before he could change the subject again.

Jack fell silent, his blue eyes wandering over to yours. You matched their intensity with ease.  
"Maybe you could offer some emotional stability," you suggested. "Lord knows the Winchesters need that."  
"What do you mean?"  
You'd moved to the side of Jack, but you were still pressed closely against him. You were wary of his sex comment from earlier, but you'd be lying if you said that the feeling of his body heat against yours wasn't nice. You studied Jack's hands, which he kept folded in his lap.

"Dean and Sam are so used to cutting down monsters that sometimes they lose pieces of themselves in the process. I don't just mean cuts and bruises. I mean I haven't seen Dean get a full night's rest in all the years I've known him. He's always walking around, pacing in the middle of the night, or running out for a late-night drink. And sometimes Sam will pray for hours at a time, though I'm not sure who he's praying to. Sometimes he cries. I haven't been here for every difficult moment with them, but it breaks my heart to see them hurt this much. If someone could take away their pain, even for a moment, even just by making them smile... Well, maybe that's where you come in, Jack."  
"My mom, Kelly, used to tell me that I would do great things. Dean and Sam think so, too. But lately, I just keep messing up."  
You sighed wistfully. "Wouldn't it be awesome if we just had magic powers that could fix all our problems? Like Cas and the other angels."

Jack shifted away from you slightly. You noticed instantly and turned to look at him, but he kept his gaze focused solemnly on the wall in front of him.   
"Why would that be awesome?" he asked, an angry tinge to his voice.  
You assumed maybe Jack was sour about the existence of angels. Most hunters weren't comfortable working with supernatural beings of any kind, even angels.  
"I'm sorry, Jack, you're right. A lot of angels suck and they use their powers for the wrong reasons, but Cas is different. Have you met him? Besides, could you imagine us hunters having those powers and using them for the right reasons? We'd be like superheroes."  
You paused, trying to form an explanation.   
"I don't know what it is about angels, Jack, but they fascinate me. Their wings and their eyes, the way they defy the stories of heavenly choirs and cherubs. They're warriors, you know, just like us. And their powers... I guess it's just kind of sexy."

You froze as that last word slipped from your mouth before you could process it. How much wine did you drink?  
You tried to laugh it off. "Sorry, I guess I spend too much time in my lore books."  
Jack was staring at you as if you'd sprouted a second head. You hid your face behind your hair.  
"Y-you like angels? They don't scare you?"  
Great, now this nice hunter you'd just met thought you had some kind of angel kink. Maybe you did, but he didn't need to know that.   
"Well of course they scare me, within reason," you said quickly. "Just like Dean pointing a gun at me would scare me. But no more than that."  
"I don't know, Dean is pretty scary," Jack countered.   
"The scariest," you agreed.

There was a moment of silence.  
"What about Lucifer?"  
"What about him? I know he was an angel once, but he's the devil. He's the worst of the worst."  
"I understand," Jack said, the tone of his voice surprisingly guilty.  
He stood from your bed and you were sad to see him go.  
"Well."  
He smiled.  
"Goodnight, (Y/N). I liked talking with you."  
"You too, Jack," you murmured once he was out of earshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you're staying safe during this difficult time. My sister has started watching Supernatural so she caught me up on the recent seasons, and Jack is absolutely my new fave (although, it's Supernatural. How can I even pick a fave?)   
> I have a few chapters written already so I'm gonna space them out when I post. Thank you for reading! <3


	2. A Fighting Chance

Over the next few weeks, you and Jack grew ever closer. Dean and Sam continued to hunt while Jack chose to stay back with you more and more. Every once in a while, before they left for a hunt, Sam would pull Jack aside and try to convince him to come with. Most times he adamantly refused, eagerly waiting for the bunker door to slam shut behind the Winchesters so he could rush back over to you and help you with lore. You loved spending time with Jack, even if he distracted you more than he helped you.

You were working late at the table in the war room one night, your eyes glazing over and refusing to focus on the words swimming across the page in front of you in ancient languages. Your eyelids dipped lower, taunting your brain with the soft kiss of sleep when the door to the bunker slammed open.

The Winchesters had promised you that no supernatural being could harm you as long as you were in the bunker, but that didn't stop you from jumping out of your skin as your half-asleep brain fumbled for the gun you kept tucked into the waistband of your jeans.

The Winchesters staggered through the door, Sam's arm wrapped in a piece of blood-soaked plaid fabric torn from his shirt in a makeshift tourniquet. Dean was limping too, a fresh cut on his forehead matting the hair to his face.

"Hey, (Y/N), Jack,— whoa!" Sam held up his one good hand in surrender as soon as he saw your firearm. "(Y/N), it's just us. Since when did you get a gun? Is that one of ours?"

You tucked the gun away quickly, avoiding Dean's gaze. You were sure to get a scolding later once he found out that you'd not only been visiting the range and practicing shooting in your free time, but you'd also purchased your own handgun. Your handgun wasn't as sleek as the ones in the movies; it was pre-owned and weathered, but anyone who saw you with it knew you meant business. Besides, its constant weight against your hip gave you a much-needed sense of comfort. Working with Dean and Sam had forced you to keep your head on a permanent swivel, always in tune with your surroundings, but at least the gun provided you with that extra layer of protection.

"It's not important," you said in response to Sam's question, hurrying to help the younger Winchester hobble inside.

Jack emerged from his bedroom, his brow furrowed as he examined the lore book in his hand. Sam groaned as you helped him sit and Jack looked up, his ocean eyes widening when he saw the state of the Winchesters.

"Sam! Dean! What happened?"

"Just a bad vamp's nest," Dean answered, "one of the biggest we've ever seen. No matter how much we hit and swung, they just kept comin'. We had to come back to patch ourselves up, and we have to head out again as soon as possible. They've still got hostages."

Dean's eyes flicked to yours, and you were surprised by the lack of disapproval you found there. "(Y/N)'s always been able to hold her own, but now that we know she can hold a gun too, I have no problem asking her to be backup."

Your heart soared. Dean wasn't angry. Here was your chance to finally prove to yourself that your time in the bunker hadn't been wasted, to test the skills that you'd only been practicing in theory. There was only one problem.

"Dean, there's no way you and Sam can go back into the nest looking like that, even with Jack and I as backup. Sam can barely walk. We'll have to call Cas to heal you."

There was a moment of silence as you watched an unspoken conversation occur between Sam and Jack. Wincing through his pain, Sam raised an eyebrow at Jack. The young hunter looked panicked and shook his head slightly in response.

"We don't need Cas," Dean said, apparently oblivious to this exchange. "We'll just have J—"

"Dean," Sam said flatly.

Dean looked up, and understanding flashed in his eyes. "You're right. It's probably time we talked to Cas anyway and checked to see if he's heard anything lately from... you know, angel radio."

You squinted. _I'm not stupid,_ you thought. _Something's going on. I need to be careful._

"Or," you piped up, "the two of you could stay back and heal while Jack and I go on this hunt. Jack's a talented hunter, right? And I've got my gun like you said." You looked pointedly at Dean.

"I don't know, (Y/N)," Sam said, genuine concern flashing through his eyes. "I understand your need to prove yourself— trust me, I do— but this one was even too much for us to handle. Vampires can only be killed by beheading, as you know, so a gun won't do much good."

"This is bullshit." Dean tried his best to stand, unbalanced on his injured leg. "We'll just call Cas and get this over with, then we'll take Jack as backup. Every second we sit here is a second wasted."

Your heart sank into your chest and you folded it back underneath your many sheets of armor. "Are you going back on your word, Dean Winchester?" you asked coldly. "You said you trusted both Jack and me as backup. I can hold my own."

Dean rubbed his face tiredly. "I do trust you, (Y/N). I really do. But Sam's right. We brought you into this life, and it's our job to keep you safe."

"I am not some damsel in distress," you muttered, a bit louder than you'd intended. "I chose this life and I'll take everything that comes with it."

You whirled desperately to Jack, your face a silent plea for support. Those blue eyes were as open and earnest as ever, and the sudden thought of something happening to the young hunter because you weren't there to help was agonizing.

"Jack, please. We just talked about how all hunters have different talents. Don't you think I would make a good addition to your team?"

Jack looked at the Winchesters, who watched him sternly, and then back at you.

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he said finally. "I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

Tears began to well in the corners of your eyes and you quickly closed them, faking frustration instead of the betrayal you felt. Girls who carried guns did not cry. You turned on one heel and stormed back to your room, flipping the Winchesters the bird for good measure.

While the Winchesters undoubtedly called Cas to use his angel mojo to heal them, you grabbed a duffel bag, throwing in a few swords and knives that you'd managed to nick from Dean's stash along with some books on vampires and some holy water and salt just in case. The gun always stayed plastered to your side.

You slung the strap of the bag over your shoulder, then hesitated and hid it under your bed instead. You'd wait until the Winchesters were on their way to head out on your own. You turned around and shouted on instinct at the sight of Jack, who was standing directly behind you.

Jack blinked at you in confusion then stepped forward, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, (Y/N). It's just me," he said. "Please don't scream again. I don't want Sam and Dean to hear."

You nodded, forcing yourself to remain pissed at him and not fantasize about other, dirtier scenarios in which his hand might be clasped over your mouth.

"I'm sorry that I didn't say anything to defend you earlier," he said, "but I didn't want Sam and Dean to get suspicious. I do want you with me during this hunt."

"I want to go with you, too," you said, lowering your voice.

You just couldn't understand your inability to stay mad at Jack Kline. Normally you were the queen of grudges, but you felt the armor around your heart crack whenever you were around him. He was almost too good to be true.

"Here," Jack said, grasping your hand and pressing something into your palm, the heat of his touch slowly melting the metal of your armor. You glanced down to find a crumpled slip of paper with an address written on it in Jack's scratchy handwriting.

"That's where the nest is. I think you were probably going there anyway, but this'll make it easier. I want you to be a part of our team, and so do Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean used to treat me like I was helpless too, and I hated it. You're one of the first people I've met to treat me normally, and if you want to be a hunter, then I trust you. I know you want to go on this hunt. But if it's too much," Jack said, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice becoming startling intense and— dare you say it— old, "then I can always protect you."

You couldn't suppress the shudder that traveled down your spine, but as soon as you blinked, Jack was looking at you with that same childlike openness again.

"Thank you, Jack," you said, pulling him into a hug and sighing against his neck in relief. He had always been on your side after all.

After wishing the boys luck and putting on a facade of still being mildly, lovingly irritated, you stood in the doorway beneath the staircase and watched the Impala pull out of sight. As soon as you could no longer see Jack's face watching you from the backseat window, you sprang into action, fishing your favorite coat out of your closet, punching the address into Google Maps, and heading to your own car.

You chose a playlist that included (your favorite band)'s newest album and set off, reassuring yourself every so often by shifting your weight to better feel your gun resting against your body. _My adult security blanket_ , you thought with a smirk.

You drove until you began to lose feeling in your legs. How the hell did Sam and Dean do this every single day? Probably because they'd both literally been through hell, you decided. There was no glory in being a researcher, but obviously even hunting had its dull moments. The night around you was as silent as a radio with its wires cut, and you rolled a window down, letting the notes of (song from your favorite band) drift out into the inky blackness.

You were leaving your mark on the air around you tonight, and it felt good. You'd passed only one or two other cars on the road, because late night ventures in small town America were about as rare as unicorns (you had to laugh at that, because living with Sam and Dean made it very likely for you to one day encounter a unicorn.)

It wasn't that you were truly mad at the Winchesters for refusing to let you go on this hunt. You loved them like family and would lay down your life for them in an instant, so it just scared you every time they hurried off into a fight without giving you the chance to help. You knew they had your best interests at heart, but you'd faced worse than vampires in your lifetime. You checked your map— only about fifteen minutes away from the destination, thank God.

You wondered what Jack's goal was. Did he want to leave his mark on the world, too? You had no doubt that he loved the Winchesters as unconditionally as you did, but he had secrets, too. The way he spoke about monsters and angels— he had strong views for claiming to be such a new hunter. That look in his eyes from earlier was still haunting you, yet it made you feel safe at the same time. He made you feel safe.

"Jack," you whispered to yourself, remembering a few nights ago when he'd scooped you up bridal-style, carrying you with the grace and maturity of an angel and the innocence of a child. How could such a genuinely good person even exist without contradicting themselves?

What if he had taken things just a step further that night? What if you'd stayed on his lap, cupped his face in your hands and moved your lips so close to his that he had no choice but to kiss you? You imagined his hands on your body, exploratory but cautious until you urged him on. "Yes, Jack," you'd say softly. "You can hold me."

Your eyes fluttered closed for barely a millisecond as your fantasy played out, but they shot open again as your car made a disconcerting noise.

Something like _thump_.

Had you hit something? If it had been a deer or a larger animal, wouldn't your car have spun out of control? You'd never exactly hit a deer, so you weren't sure how these things worked. You were sorry to say that most of your ideas about the world came from books and movies.

You couldn't just drive over it, whatever it was, so you parked and got out, grabbing your phone from the center console and switching on the flashlight as you came around the front end of your car. One hand rested on your gun holster, ready to whip the weapon out at any sight of movement.

That hand instantly flew to your mouth as you saw the vaguely human shape lying underneath your car. How could you have hit an actual person and failed to notice?  
You knelt down by the man's head, whispering, "Hey. Hey."

You weren't sure if you were more terrified of him failing to answer or suddenly sitting up and suing you for all the money you owned. You still had student loans to pay. This would devastate you, and it would only prove to Dean and Sam that you weren't ready to be a hunter.   
You resigned yourself to calling Jack for help, finding his number in your contacts and waiting impatiently as it rang.

You stood away from the body, keeping your head on that swivel. Being alone like this with a presumably dead body was more than a little unnerving. Now you understood why Sam and Dean always went on hunts together.  
Jack answered just before the call went to voicemail and you felt a rush of relief at the sound of his worried voice. "(Y/N)? Where are you?" he asked, sounding slightly breathless, his voice husky for some reason.

You heard Dean's gruff voice in the background. "What do you mean, where is she? She's at the bunker."

Dean's voice became more muffled as Jack walked away.

"I'm... I had to stop. I hit something, and it turned out to be a body. I think... I think he's dead."

"(Y/N)," Jack's voice was stern. "Get back in the car and drive away."

"What?" you circled around to the other side of the body, nearest the passenger door. "But... I mean... where did he come from? I don't think I actually hit him. I mean, I think I just rolled over him. I think he was already in the middle of the road."

Now that you could see the body from a better angle, your flashlight panning over its face instead of the back of its head, you could see that rigor mortis has already distorted some of the facial features.

"I think he was already dead," you said, suddenly feeling the need to whisper in the dead of night. Your heart pounded and you reached for your gun, but not fast enough.

Something heavy connected with the back of your head and suddenly your head felt uncomfortably wet and unbearably hot, like someone had poured lava inside your skull. You went down, hitting the pavement of the road as a silhouette leaned over you, making quick work of tying your hands behind your back with a coarse rope.

Your vision started to fizzle in and out as you made a groaning sound in the direction of your phone. You could hear Jack's voice calling, "(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" until someone's heavy black boot stepped on your phone with an alarming crunch.

You came to, slowly opening your eyes and blinking only to instantly regret it. You hissed as you squeezed them shut again, trying—too late—to save yourself from a pounding headache. The back of your head was still burning and the pain was made worse by the obnoxiously bright, single fluorescent light dangling by a thread in the middle of the room. As soon as you were able to open your eyes a sliver without getting dizzy, you looked down to find yourself tied to a wooden chair. You tugged at your restraints, feeling the rope cut into your wrists.

 _So typical and old-fashioned. None of these monsters even think to use zip ties_ , you mused to yourself, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you didn't actually have Dean, Sam, and Jack's catastrophe-evading expertise. This hunt was a test run, but you'd failed, and now you were about to become this vamp's guinea pig. Or blood bag, more likely.

You let your eyes flutter closed again, desperate to ignore that terrifying fear of failure. If you weren't dead, you hadn't failed yet, but you couldn't get out of this on your own. You'd put yourself in danger again before you were ready, just like that time so many years ago... your mind reeled back on itself, unbidden, and suddenly you were seeing flashes of charred bone and fire.

Blood, not yours, but staining your clothes. Tripping over your own feet as you stumbled out of the house, with only one thought in your mind: _Run. Run. Run._

You didn't dare to glance back, not when you were so afraid of those ruby eyes fixing on you, their stare stone cold in the heat of the fire. "(Y/N)," he said, with lips that were slowly burning away. "(Y/N)." He laughed.

Your mind was absorbed in reliving the nightmares of your past, but your body's instincts weren't too far gone to notice the slimy-looking man with sharp eyes and black boots approach you. He detached a tube from your arm and drank straight out of the blood bag attached to it as though it were a flask. _At least he has enough class not to drink from my neck_ , you thought weakly.

You struggled against your ropes in vain as more vampires crept out of the shadows. "You think she'll be enough for all of us, Arnold?" one asked, directing his question at the vampire currently feeding off of you. "You better save some for the rest of us. We can't grab too many more or else we'll attract the attention of hunters."

"I think this girl is a hunter," Arnold said around a mouthful of blood, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "A stupid one, but at least she's pretty."

"Go to hell," you muttered, but Arnold only laughed.

"Jack. Please." You whispered his name like a prayer, trying to imagine the young hunter's bright eyes and sweet smile instead of the gross man in front of you and the fire behind your own eyes.

"Jack?" One of the female vampires frowned. "Jack who?"

"Maybe she wants a jack and coke," Arnold chortled. "Is that your last drink order before you cross over to the other side, sweetheart?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger this time with the certainty of your words. "My Jack. Jack Kline."

The woman cursed softly and Arnold dropped the blood bag. You yelped as the tube pulled on your vein.

"What are you waiting for? Untie her! Fix her!" The woman snapped. "I am not getting involved with the Winchesters or their not-so-secret weapon."

She was clearly in charge, because Arnold flinched at her tone. You smiled to yourself at that.

"Female head vamp," you mumbled in your delirious state of blood loss. "I like that. For feminism."

"What am I supposed to do, put the blood back into her?" Arnold asked.

"Well, at least stop drawing it!"

Arnold sawed through your rope cuffs with a knife and yanked the tube from your arm. You tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness washed over you so fast that you found yourself sitting again.

Your head lolled back and you regulated your breathing, feeling relief wash over you as your vision and senses slowly started returning to normal. Your head still burned, but you eventually felt like you could stand if you wanted. Even so, it was probably best to pretend like you were still delirious so the vampires wouldn't try anything else.

"I'm not leaving here!" Arnold shouted, and you watched with interest out of the corner of your eye as an argument seemed to break out between the vampires.

"This is our nest, and we can take the damn Winchesters. The rest of you can go if you want, but I'm standing my ground, Shelly."

The head vamp—Shelly—shook her head. "Arnold, we have to—"

As they continued bickering, you tried to survey the room. You had no idea where your gun was, or where you were in relation to your car, and this was a hell of a lot of vampires. Even with Jack providing an extra pair of hands, you weren't sure if the Winchesters could take this many.

"Hello."

The vampires fell silent, and your heart fluttered as you looked up to find Jack standing in the center of the room, one hand raised in an awkward wave. He was bordered by Dean and Sam, who looked beyond pissed—whether at you or the vampires, you couldn't really tell.

"Are you real?" you asked, afraid your mind was playing tricks on you again.

Jack walked up to you, kneeling down beside you and taking your face in his hands. "Yes. I'm real."

You breathed out in a whoosh of air, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry," you said. "I wasn't ready."

"Jack, if you knew about this, I'm going to kill you later," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"If the vampires don't kill us first," Jack added helpfully.

"The vampires don't want to kill you," Arnold said. You had been so focused on Jack that you hadn't noticed the slimy vamp creeping up behind you, but now he hauled you to your feet, holding a knife to your throat.

You didn't even dare to swallow, staring at Jack with embarrassment coloring your cheeks. The hunter's blue eyes were focused on Arnold, and he did not seem pleased.

"You might be Sam and Dean Winchester, plus one overpowered weapon of evil, but this nest has belonged to my family for years. I won't give it up, but I'll give you a choice. Either you take this little girl with you and forget you ever saw us, or," he said, pressing the knife harder against your throat, "I kill her and drain her of blood right in front of you."

He motioned to the tubing contraption he'd dropped on the ground. "Using a blood bag, of course. I'm not some uncivilized monster."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and for the first time since knowing him, you felt a little afraid.

"You know we can't let you do that," Sam answered. "You've killed people and you won't stop if we leave."

Arnold shrugged. "Suit yourse—"

"No," Jack said, his eyes glowing an otherworldly golden color, and Arnold froze.

"You're gonna use your leashed Nephilim on me, huh, boys?" he asked with a nervous laugh. "At least give a man a fighting chance."

"You hurt (Y/N)," Jack growled. "You don't get a chance."

That fear in your stomach turned to full-blown terror at the sight of the inhuman being in front of you, those golden eyes not unlike that hellfire from so many years ago.

You saw the Winchesters shielding their eyes as Jack used his powers, but you refused to do the same. Jack had hidden himself from you, and you wanted to see who he truly was.

The sounds of vampires screaming echoed around you as Jack looked at each one in turn, destroying them with nothing but a look and an outstretched hand. Shelly rushed at Jack, her fangs bared, and you surprised yourself by shouting out a warning to the hunter—no, _Nephilim._

Jack turned, golden waves of power pulsing from his fingertips, capturing Shelly in a bubble of slow motion magic. The waves of gold washed and crawled over Shelly until Jack decided to end it with a snap of his fingers. You gasped, partially in fear and partially in pure astonishment as Shelly was reduced to dust.

You'd done plenty of research on the most formidable beings in the cosmos, but you'd never seen power as simultaneously beautiful and destructive as Jack's. You watched him until it became unbearable and you were forced to close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks as fear and something else coiled in your stomach.

Dean and Sam didn't even have to make a move and Jack had wiped them all out in seconds.

There was a moment of dreadful silence, and then Jack turned to look at you. You blinked back tears. As much as you could see hellfire in those alien eyes, they were also honeyed and gentle. Jack was a Nephilim more powerful than any you'd read about in your books, and monsters cowered at the mere mention of his name, but that didn't change how you'd felt about him since the day you two had met. You sank back into the chair in shock.

"J-Jack," you said again, the prayer spoken aloud this time. "What are you?"

Jack approached you, those eyes still shining, and raised a hand towards you. You flinched, your hands flying up to protect yourself. After a moment, you dared to open just one eye when nothing happened.

Jack stared down at you with ordinary baby blue eyes, his face more crestfallen and hopeless than you'd ever seen it. You had come to depend on Jack to be your sunshine, and it absolutely killed you to see him this way, caused by something you had done.

"Your head is injured," Jack said, as though it were obvious. "I can heal you. I'm a Nephilim. But you—are you—you're afraid of me." He said it resignedly, as though all of the hope had fled from his body.

"I—n-no—" you stuttered, unsure of exactly what you were feeling except shock and relief that Jack had come for you after all.

"I came because I heard your prayer," Jack said, and you startled again. Jack's shy smile turned to a frown as he sighed. "I keep saying the wrong things. I keep scaring you."

You decided to test out your theory. _Are you..._ you tried, treading carefully, _reading my mind?_

"Yes, I can hear what you're thinking," Jack answered out loud. "As long as you want me to."

 _You're... powerful,_ you thought. _What else can you do?_

Jack allowed that adorable, timid smile to creep onto his face again as your hesitance melted away.

"Lots of things," he said.

"Okay," you whispered. He was still Jack, but you couldn't help the hint of nervousness that peeked through your accepting exterior.

If his powers were that strong, and Jack was, well... Jack, what if he hurt you on accident?  
Jack held out his hand, and you looked at it skeptically.

"Would it help if I told you more about my powers?"

You hesitated, then nodded. Jack knelt by your side again, as though trying to put himself on your level to make you more comfortable. "I can teleport," he said. "Can I take you home and heal you?"

Once you gave your consent, Jack helped you stand and hobble over to the Winchesters. Your head hurt the worst, but it seemed that Arnold hadn't been very considerate when dragging you into the vampire nest and tying you up, either. Your limbs ached, and you were pretty sure your knee was sprained.

Jack kept his arms around you, steadying you against his chest while he looked at the Winchesters. "Now?" he asked. The two grunted in affirmation and in the next breath, you were back in the bunker. The world tilted around you and you barely had time to clutch the sleeve of Jack's familiar beige jacket before you lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It really got my creativity pumping. My sister and I have been binging Supernatural like, 24/7 and I need more Jack. I'm sure you all do too, which is hopefully why you're here! I also can't even fathom Supernatural ending in a few months... I've been on this road for six years, but I'm ready for the boys to have their peace. Fluff in the next chapter and even MORE fluff after that! (You can't have Jack without fluff)


	3. Unspoken Prayers

The next time you opened your eyes, you almost doubled over in pain at the return of the burning in your head and every single ache and pain in your legs. At least you felt well-rested. _I better be_ , you thought. _I've slept enough in one day to make up for all my late-night research sessions combined._

You went to sit up but stilled at the sight of Jack sitting at the foot of your bed. Maybe it would be easier to pretend like everything you'd seen today had been a dream, but you needed to own up to your mistakes. Attempting to flush out a vampire nest on your own and forcing Jack to go along with your plan had only gotten him in trouble, and with the ever-shifting nature of his powers, you knew now that Sam and Dean kept him on a short enough leash without you causing more problems.

You thought back to your conversation with him in this very room the other day. Jack genuinely treated the Winchesters like family, and he'd made a point to let you follow through with your own choices, coming to your rescue only when they didn't work out. He had told you he felt like he wasn't in control, but it seemed that maybe you were the one who could learn a lesson or two from him about control and pushing your own limits. Jack was a Nephilim, a real Nephilim. He had power the likes of which you'd never imagined, but if anyone should have such power, it was this kind-hearted boy.

You tried to quiet your thoughts as Jack suddenly stood from the edge of your bed and moved to the front of your room, resting his hands on the edge of your desk and looking up at himself in the mirror that hung over it.   
His eyes shone that mystical color again, somewhere between molten gold and hellfire, as he studied himself. He was murmuring something to himself over and over again in the mirror, and at first, you thought it was a chant or spell of some kind until you caught the words.

"Asshole angels. Kind monsters. Asshole angels. Kind monsters." Jack's face crumpled as he looked away from the mirror. Finally, eyes fading back to their usual cool tone, he looked at the mirror again. "Angels are sex... what was it... sexy. Angels are sexy."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your mouth, alerting the Nephilim to your conscious state.

"(Y/N)!" Jack hurried over, then slowed his pace, approaching you cautiously. "Does your head still hurt? I chose not to heal you because you showed signs of distress when I tried, back in the vampire's nest. I would like to help you, if you'll let me."

You tried to sit up, then shuddered as a flash of pain moved through you. "You can heal me now, Jack. Thank you for waiting."

Jack sat a safe distance away from you on the bed, tentatively pressing the tips of his fingers to your forehead. You closed your eyes, adjusting to the sensation of Jack's magical touch. It started as a faint tingling sensation, like ASMR or pins and needles but in your head, spreading outwards to the rest of your body and finally dissolving into a feeling of overwhelming peace and calm. Any ounce of prior pain was gone.

"Thank you," you whispered. Jack nodded, but he wouldn't look at you. His face was a mixture of sadness and fear.

"I'm sorry, Jack," you started. "I was just surprised, that's all. I've never met a Nephilim before."

"I understand," he said softly. "I'm sorry I kept it from you for so long. I didn't want to lose you or see fear in your eyes when you look at me. A lot of hunters think angels are... douchebags, as Dean says, and I couldn't bear for you to... for you to..."  
Jack inhaled sharply, unable to stop a few tears from spilling over. "I thought that if you thought I was just a hunter, you might want to..."

Your heart broke.  
You shook your head insistently and reached out to cup Jack's face in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch with a sigh. "Even if you are part angel, you're part human too, and you're the sweetest one I've ever known of either species. I like spending time with you because you're you, not because one of your parents was an angel. It definitely explains a lot of your confusion about the world, though. You and Cas could be confused twins."

Jack smiled at the mention of Cas' name. "Castiel is like my father. I would love to be just like him."

You smiled. "I think he'd be honored to hear you say that."

Jack was still trying to put too many feet of distance between you and him, and it was driving you crazy.

"I'm really not afraid of you, Jack. I have a lot of questions, but I like being close to you. You don't have to stay away."

As soon as the invitation had left your lips, Jack was siding up next to you, his thigh pressing into yours. You shivered, this time with an emotion very different from fear. You weren't sure how to voice this next thought out loud, so you thought it at Jack instead.

_What makes me, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), special enough to be this close to a Nephilim?_ you asked. _You're so powerful, monsters turn tail and run at the sound of your name. I've seen what you can do. It's terrifying. It's beautiful._

Jack blushed and smiled one of his signature sunshine-y smiles, looking down self-consciously. He swung his legs back and forth like a delighted child on a swing.

"I don't know. There's still so much I don't know about myself. I'm not divine," Jack said. "I'm normal. I want to be normal. Magic powers don't make life better. I spend time with you because I like you, and I want to. Not for some other fated reason."

Now it was your turn to blush, but you quickly cleared your throat and regained composure. "You're not divine, but God is your... grandfather?"

Jack nodded. "That's right. He doesn't like me very much. I wish he did. My other grandfather likes me, though. My grandmother too. I wish they understood who I was."

"God is your grandfather, but you consider Castiel your father," you considered. "You definitely found the right family in this bunker. If you want to make your own way in the world and not follow some pre-destined route, the Winchesters are the ones to stick with. God is part of you, but Cas, Dean, and Sam are too."

"Dean and Sam cause a lot of trouble, though," Jack said, looking at you nervously as though anticipating you scolding him for having bad role models. You simply laughed. "Well, I guess that's why the two of us fit in so well, huh? It's a wonder that they reprimand you and me so much when they're the exact same."

Jack smiled, moving his hand to rest gingerly on top of yours. You let it lay there, not wanting to scare him off by pulling him any closer. Instead, you reached for your next question.  
"So if you consider Castiel your father, who is your real father?"

_Please_ , Jack said in your mind, his voice soft but clear. You looked at him in surprise. Was the answer to this question so frightening that he couldn't answer yet? You tried to chase away the cold coil of fear threatening to curl back into your stomach like a snake. Jack looked at you with pleading eyes that you couldn't refuse. _Not yet_ , he insisted, and you decided to honor his wish.

You sifted around in your mind for an easier question. "Well then, how old are you?" you tried.

"I'm... 22 years old. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Jack made a face. "It's not important. Any other questions?"

"Will you show me your powers again?"

Jack stood, taking your hand and pulling you up with him so that the two of you were still pressed together. You could feel his breath ghost across your face as he said, "Do you trust me." It was more of a statement than a question and Jack watched you nervously, as though terrified of what it would mean for the two of you if you placed that question mark and made your trust uncertain.

"I do, Jack," you said with a smile.

He held out one hand, eyes glowing as those powerful waves of gold washed over you.   
You felt tempted to hold your breath and that temptation quickly became a necessity as the golden waves turned into the blue, salty waves of the ocean. You thrashed for a moment, surrounded by crashing foam, and called out Jack's name. "Here," he said simply.

He lay in the water calmly beside you and held up your interlinked hands to prove that he'd been there the whole time. "We're not really here. It's just a place I go sometimes when everything else is too loud."

You blinked and the two of you were now sitting on the shore, soaking wet, looking out at the ocean. The sky was gray and the water was tumultuous, foreshadowing an oncoming storm, but with one snap of Jack's fingers, it became a baby blue dotted with the puffiest of clouds. You shivered from the cold and pressed further into Jack's side, though you were sure Jack could magic away the drop in your body's temperature if you only asked.

"Why the beach?" you asked. "Why is this the place you go to?"

"It's human," Jack said, and you tilted your head at the horizon curiously, waiting for him to go on.  
"The waves keep fighting to come up onto the sand, just like people. People always keep fighting. And there's so much that's unknown, out in the ocean, that it makes you feel small. Sometimes I think that's a good thing. To feel like one small part of humanity, instead of feeling like you are the whole ocean. Sometimes Dean and Sam treat me like I'm the whole ocean." Jack looked down at you. "But not you. You treat me like I'm me."

A breathy sigh escaped you. Jack might not be perfect, but he was honest and real. You placed a hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat ticking with such certainty that you were suddenly consumed by the disembodying feeling that it had been keeping time for centuries. He was a beautiful contradiction of himself, not unlike you.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, the kiss so soft that it was more like a shared breath. Jack's eyes fluttered closed and when you pulled away, he pulled you back, extending the kiss for just a few precious seconds more. "Thank you," he said once you pulled apart again, smiling against your lips.

"You kissed me," you said in surprise, even though you were the one who had initiated it.

Jack shrugged with a smile. "I liked it."

You wanted more. You needed more.

Jack smile broadened. "Then I'll kiss you again."

"Hey! No fair! You're reading my mind!" you said, breaking the mood of the moment.

Jack's illusion of the beach around you began to fade as you returned to your bedroom or the bedroom returned to you.

Before you had time to react, Jack's lips were on yours again. "Jack... Jack... let's take it slow," you giggled. He clearly didn't know how to use tongue as he was continually pecking you on the lips, but it was so endearing you couldn't help but be enamored. You laughed as he continued to kiss and then found yourself gasping as Jack moved to your neck.

"Ahh-ah, hey! I like you a lot Jack, but let's move slowly, okay?"

Jack nodded and moved back, seeming disappointed.

"Did you like what I showed you?" he asked.

You nodded. "It was so peaceful, Jack. And you're right, very human. Don't listen to what anyone says about you being a monster or a weapon. You're more human than a lot of people I know, except you're part angel and, well... you know how I feel about angels." You winked.

Something wanting flashed behind Jack's eyes too. "I want to stay here tonight," he said in a strangely demanding voice that made you shudder with excitement. You remembered the growl in his voice when he'd threatened to destroy any vampire that had hurt you.

"We're taking it slow, remember, Jack," you said, your words quivering despite yourself.

"I know," Jack said, his manner switching instantly. "I just want to stay in bed with you. Is that alright?"

You laid a hand on Jack's head, running your fingers through his silky hair. "Of course."

You made a small noise as Jack suddenly grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap. Adrenaline rushed through your body but you calmed as Jack placed a hand on your back and began humming softly in a language you didn't know. You'd heard Cas speak it a few times and thought it might be Enochian. The sights and sounds of the real world faded into an indistinct, harmless blur, slowly giving birth to the ever-darker world of your subconscious—for the last time today, you hoped. But this time, Jack's song followed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter was a bit short and weird/philosophical at the end. Was it too weird? Let me know so I can improve! But first kiss awwww! Some more fluff and WINGS coming in the next chapter!
> 
> Also, here's a list of some of my favorite Jack quotes, just for funsies:
> 
> "I'm two... enty. Twenty. I'm twenty two."
> 
> "What's a ghost?"
> 
> Dean: "Where's the thing?"  
> Jack: "I ate it."  
> Dean: "Well, spit it out!"


	4. Human Things

You woke up with Jack's body still curled around you protectively, radiating an unnatural heat. He was twitching adorably in his sleep and mumbling incomprehensibly. You wiped the sandy grains from the corners of your eyes and stood.

What had happened last night? Had it been a dream?

But no, you were a researcher, and your memory was excellent. (Unlike Dean, who could never remember if he'd had lunch that day and always decided to have a second and a third, just to be safe.)

You remembered the brilliant golden eyes of the Nephilim lying on your bed, sometimes gazing at you and sometimes shifting just out of reach to universes and knowledge beyond your grasp. You remembered the ocean. Drowning, then swimming. You remembered his kiss.

You glanced down at Jack as he shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

“I don’t sleep much,” he’d told you once, his brows furrowing as if trying to fathom why humans bothered to sleep at all. “It doesn’t help.” Whatever he’d done last night must have taken a lot out of him because he was snoozing as soundly as any ordinary human.

You checked the alarm clock on your bedside table. There were no numbers on the screen, only red lines blinking rapidly in confusion as if they too had fallen asleep. You grabbed the clock, shook it, and walked to the door with it. The closer away you got from Jack, the more the numbers started to look like numbers again. You frowned, placing the clock near Jack's head. The clock immediately malfunctioned. Could a Nephilim really be so powerful? What wasn't Jack telling you?

You left Jack to sleep in and went to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

"Look who rises from the dead," Dean quipped, and you jumped.

Dean was sitting at the table in the bunker's kitchen, a bottle of beer half-raised to his mouth. He wore the typical Winchester plaid and raised one eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Sorry Dean," you yawned. "Jack just puts me right to sleep.”

Dean held up a hand in disgust. "I don’t want to hear what you two did! Gross! I don't tell you.”

You tapped the face of your clock one last time, finally sending the numbers glitching back to their senses. You were shocked by what they read.

"It's 5 at night? But it was almost midnight when Jack and I fell asleep!”

"Yep, and you slept through the whole day," Dean said.

"Why didn't you wake me up? Didn't you need help on that case?" You opened the fridge, hoping the boys hadn't eaten all your leftovers.

"Nah, you and Jack have been working hard enough lately. I figured I'd let you sleep. Besides, Sammy and I are big boys. We can handle a case or two on our own.”

You nodded, pretending to look interested. Dean could tell by your distracted expression that something was off. Usually, you never missed a case, and if you did, you always wanted to hear stories about what had happened in your absence.

Dean was the best storyteller by far. He always made the monsters seem scarier and more vicious than they were in actuality, with infinitely many teeth and a vengeance against humanity. It was nothing that the story’s hero, Dean, couldn’t handle, of course, along with the help of his reluctant sidekick, Sam. You’d never expected Dean to be one to paint himself as the hero when it came to hunting, but he never lied to you. If he fucked up and someone got hurt in the process, he told you so. His priority was saving people, yet he certainly didn’t mind the hunting of things. You could tell by the wild look in his eyes, the way he leaned forward as if ready to burst into action, that he loved the hunt. He always had.

You were a fan of storytelling too, as he well knew, so when you fell silent, it was time to check up on you.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)? he asked.

You sat down across from the older hunter, abandoning the thought of food momentarily. "About Jack..." you looked away, unsure how to phrase it without sounding silly. You were an adult, and you needed Dean to treat your romantic interests as such.

"I think I really like him.”

You waited for Dean to tease, but he waited patiently for you to go on.

"I don't just mean as another boy toy. He's someone I connect with on a deeper level, for the first time since college. But... you know what happened to me. Back then.”

Dean said nothing, but he knew.

"And I know it's not your place to tell me Jack's secrets. But I'm scared.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply but the soft sound of feet shuffling sleepily down the hall brought your conversation to an end.

Jack stretched, his shirt riding up slightly and revealing his toned stomach. You tried to look away but found yourself staring more instead.

"Dean," Jack said flatly.

When he saw you, his face lit up. "Good morning, (Y/N)! Did you sleep well? I hope you don't mind, but I tried to give you good dreams after we visited the beach last night. Did it work?”

“It did," you said, ignoring Dean’s puzzled look in favor of standing and bravely approaching Jack, who stood a few inches taller than you.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, and a sweet blush spread across the Nephilim's nose and cheeks. Dean made an immature noise while Jack grabbed your hand and led you to his room.

"Ooh," you said when you spotted his TV. The Winchesters only had so many TVs to go around so your room didn't have one yet, but you planned to pester Dean until he got you one.

"Do you like horror movies, Jack?”

Somehow you couldn't picture the ever-naive Nephilim watching horror movies, but if he hunted with Dean and Sam, he might find them just as amusing and inaccurate as the Winchesters did.

"What is a horror movie?" Jack asked innocently.

"It's a scary movie. It's what you, Dean, and Sam do, but it's not real.”

"Why would you want to watch a movie that scares you?”

"Because it's fun! C'mon, will you give it a go for me? The Conjuring is my absolute favorite. We can even cuddle while we watch if you want.”

Jack brightened at that. "I would love to watch a scary movie with you, (Y/N)," he said.

Jack sat on the bed, pulling you along with him. You laughed in delight when he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, then grabbed the remote as you went to Netflix.

"I still can't believe Dean let you have a TV," you said. "You really are a Winchester.”

Dean had an old-fashioned popcorn maker––he had just about an old-fashioned everything––so you popped some salty kernels while Jack watched the intro to the Conjuring. You returned with two bags full of popcorn.

"(Y/N), what is this?" Jack asked, looking down as you placed an overflowing bag of popcorn into his lap.

You sighed. "I swear, all you guys eat is junk food and they don't even let you have the good stuff. It's popcorn! The perfect complement to a scary movie.”

Jack placed a piece tentatively in his mouth, letting it sit there without chewing. You watched him, amused.

"It's not popping," he said finally. "And it doesn't taste like corn."

"You have to chew it, Jack," you said with a smile, turning your attention back to the movie.

"And then it pops?" Jack asked.

After a few more minutes into the movie, once doors had started slamming and people were screaming, you glanced over to gauge Jack's reaction.

"This is scary, (Y/N)," he said. "Dean and Sam need to exorcise that ghost.”

You laughed. "That's where the Warrens come in. Maybe if Dean and Sam knew Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga, they'd get paid more.”

"You said this isn't real?" Jack asked in confusion. "But ghosts are real.”

“You're right," you admitted. "This case was real, but it was solved by the Warrens in real life. They're real hunters, you know. They're just not Wilson and Farmiga. I think that's why I love these movies so much. They're telling a great story, the way Dean does when he talks about a hunt, but these were real hunters, too. Hunters’ stories are finally being told in a way that's accessible to the general, non-hunter public. Y'know?”

"I do," Jack said with a nod. "Dean and Sam are heroes. I wish I could be like them.”

You snuggled up closer to Jack, taking comfort in his body heat.

One of your favorite jump scares was coming up, but you decided not to tell Jack. Horror movies were no fun unless you could experience that unexpected fear firsthand.

You felt that familiar rush of adrenaline shoot through your body as the ghostly witch appeared on top of the cabinet, mangled, dirty, and growling. You turned to Jack to see if he was equally spooked and yelped as your vision went white.

You gasped and reached out frantically, afraid you'd gone blind. You could see nothing but glorious white light, and everywhere you looked, the hot blankness was seared onto the back of your eyelids.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), I'm so sorry. I was afraid. Are you okay?”

Your eyesight began to clear to the point that you were able to look back at Jack.

"What was tha--“

This time it was your brain that short-circuited. You could barely process what you saw before you.

Sprouting from Jack's back and wrapped around you were a gorgeous pair of angel wings. They took up half the room, towering over you like a waterfall of feathers frozen in motion. You couldn't help but be afraid. Seeing Jack's eyes was one thing, but if he let his wings flap for one second, they might actually crush you. Immediately following the fear was awe. Jack's wings were beautiful. They were a warm cream color shot through with veins of gold, suspended in midair, fluid and graceful like a river and just as fierce. They reminded you of kintsugi, a piece of broken Japanese pottery sealed with gold to make it even more beautiful.

The second thing you noticed was the sensation of Jack's wings wrapping around you. The one closest to you was perched over and around you, and you shivered as you gazed up at its enormity. Immediately, the feathers spread across your arms and shoulders like a comforting hand as the wing pulled you closer to Jack's body. It was like being swaddled in cool silk.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, his voice sharp and clear in the echo chamber that his wings created. "I can't always control them.”

"It's okay," you whispered. "Thank you for showing me.”

The careful reverence with which you'd treated the Nephilim's supernatural differences up until that point fled, and you buried your hand into the soft down of the feathers. Jack sighed contentedly and the wings moved with his breath, pressing into you like each feather had a mind of its own. The movements scuttled and tickled like… _soft hermit crabs,_ you thought nonsensically.

Jack didn't speak for some time. His eyes were closed contentedly and he was clearly enjoying the sensation of you touching a part of him that was so not of this world. You grasped one feather between your thumb and forefinger, tugging slightly. Jack groaned, a noise that ignited a thrill in your stomach. You’d never heard the Nephilim make such an obscene sound, even when you kissed him.

"Don't stop, Y/N," Jack said. "Your touch has... power.”

You almost laughed at the ridiculous notion of you having power over these unfathomable appendages. But Jack's voice was huskier and breathier than usual, and that did things to you, so you climbed into his lap.

The wings followed, cocooning around you, kissing you softly. The feathers were cooler than Jack's natural body heat; they were soft, yes, but also shockingly intense. Jack's blue eyes opened and he gazed at you with such trust that it warmed your heart.

"They're amazing," you said quickly, suddenly afraid you'd gone too long without complimenting them. "I can't believe you have wings. Just like an angel.”

Of course, you'd seen Cas' and Gabriel's wings before, but Jack's were two times the size of theirs, and untouched by any war or battle scars.

As soon as you complimented them, the wings began chattering softly in a language you recognized from your research—Enochian. Jack looked at his own wings in surprise, seeming just as startled by them as he was by his other powers. Then he looked at you, your comment registering as his face lit up.

"You really think so?”

Feeling bold for the second time that day, you kissed him on the mouth, then tentatively took one of the feathers in your hands to kiss its sleek surface. A flurry of feathers and whispers moving against your lips, with your lips.

"I really think so," you said honestly.

Jack's arms wrapped around you and the two of you kissed long and deep. It tasted salty and sweet like popcorn. Jack sighed into your mouth and a satisfied smile crept across your mouth in response as you slowly pushed his shoulders back until the Nephilim lay flat on the bed. You adjusted your hips so that you were full-on straddling him and just as you moved down for another kiss, there was a flurry of movement. Jack gasped as his wings flared out underneath you on the bed before curling up and around your body and flipping your positions. Jack now straddled you, his eyes glowing that alien golden color. You shivered.

In another heartbeat, his expression returned to one that was just as bewildered and yet as secretly delighted as you felt.

“J-Jack?” you asked. “What are you doing?”

You reached up to touch his wings again but they reared up before pinning your arms to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, seeming embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—” He tried to shift away but his wings knew exactly what they were doing, and they wanted you right where you were.

“Don’t fight it,” you whispered. “I want you to do whatever feels right.”

The Nephilim sighed in pleasure as he let his eager wings guide his actions and kissed you with more fervor. This time, when he lowered his head and his lips grazed your neck, you let him. All too soon, Jack pulled away. You whined in protest and Jack gave you one last kiss, a simple press of lips on lips.

“You said you wanted to go slow, (Y/N). I do too. I want to love you and protect you. Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

You’d never been more ready to submit to something in your life. “Yes,” you said.

The two of you had missed a good portion of the movie and most of the adrenaline rushing through your system now was the fault of Jack and his beautiful wings, but you still wanted to see it through to the end.

For the rest of the movie, whenever there was a jump-scare, Jack would let his wings rush to cover you protectively, though you had a sneaking suspicion that he might be more surprised by the ghosts than you.

"I don't understand," you said to him with a giggle. "Haven't you seen ghosts and monsters in real life?”

"Yes, but this is the first time they're near you," he answered quietly, his brow creasing with genuine worry.

When the credits began to roll, you lay your head in Jack’s lap, focusing on his face instead of his wings and thinking about what he’d said. Your fingers traced the shape of his cheeks and chin. His wings were indeed beautiful but despite the overwhelming nature of his powers, the soul behind that very human face was the one in control.

“Jack,” you asked softly. “What do your wings mean to you?”

Jack looked back at his wings and they gave a light flutter, as if self-conscious. “I guess… they’re part of who I am. But they’re also a weakness, a part of myself that I can’t always control. Why?”

You nodded to yourself, thinking of the gun that slept in the top drawer of your dresser a few rooms away from Jack’s. Jack’s wings hardly seemed like a weakness. He had promised to protect you and he’d already proven himself capable. Could you say the same? You had your gun, but without it, you were nothing. You were a helpless blood bag, waiting for the Winchesters to come and save you. You were the target of those fiery red eyes, scouring for you in the darkness.

_Bang._

Those eyes would find you long before your bullet would find the space between them. And even if it did…

You sat up suddenly, drawing in a shaky breath. Jack looked concerned. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the daymare.

“Nothing. I mean, yeah, I get what you’re saying. Power is a convenient cloak to throw over fear, over a lack of self-control.”

A single traitorous tear escaped from the corner of your eye. Jack, of course, instantly noticed, and gathered you back into his arms.

“(Y/N), I can tell that something’s wrong. Why did you lie to me? I know I can help if you just tell me.”

“I want to be able to protect you too, Jack,” you admitted. “From any kind of angel or demon or monster that threatens you, just like you did for me back in the vamp’s nest. But I’m just a researcher, and that makes me pretty much useless.” You gestured to the sky in desperation, as though asking Chuck why he hadn’t gifted you with a skill more useful to Sam, Dean, and Jack.

Jack frowned. “But you don’t need special powers. Sam and Dean need someone to research their cases; otherwise, they wouldn’t know enough to keep themselves safe. And—” the Nephilim held you tighter— “you protect people emotionally. You make me feel safe enough to be vulnerable around you. That’s important.”

You smiled, nudging Jack. “Remember when we first met? I told you that could be your job. Being a steady presence for the less-than steady Winchesters.”

“But it’s not my job. It’s yours.”

A few more tears escaped and you tried to hide them by wrapping your arms around Jack’s neck and pulling yourself into him. “Thank you, Jack. That means a lot.”

That contagious smile lit up his face again. “You mean a lot to me. I don’t really understand humanity or human emotions, but I’m starting to. You make me want to protect you and care for you, even though I know you can take care of yourself. You’re like family, but different. Because I want to kiss you.”

“Well, if you really want to…” you said, pressing your lips to his again.

The longer you lay still, swaddled in Jack’s wings, the more an idea began to form. You’d always expected angel wings to be warm and heavy to the touch, but the unexpected coolness of the Nephilim’s feathery appendages was strangely energizing. You didn’t want to sleep right now anyway. You looked up at Jack, whose bright blue eyes stared back at you, alert and awake. It was like he knew exactly what you needed and when you needed it, and right now, you needed to think. There had to be a way that you could develop your own skills so you could protect Jack, too. You were his girlfriend now, after all.

A nervous smile crept across your face as your idea took hold. You weren’t sure if Jack would be receptive to it—as much as he seemed to care about you, he’d already broken the Winchesters’ trust once by hiding your solo hunting experiment from them. Would he risk it again?

_Will you come with me to the archive room?_ you thought at him. You opened your idea to Jack’s telepathic abilities by letting your thoughts float into that space between consciousness and unconsciousness until words became abstract shapes and images.

Jack’s eyes widened but he nodded and stood from the bed with you. _I think that will work,_ he replied, taking your hand and leading you to Room 7B.

You had been in Room 7B, the records room that functioned doubly as the dungeon, plenty of times. You knew the records system like the back of your hand since you’d reorganized it all yourself. When you had first started living at the bunker, any of the organizational progress that Sam had made in the archive room had been undone by the files Dean had haphazardly thrown into boxes. You had regularly stumbled across papers smeared with bacon grease or porn magazines shoved in the back where Sam wouldn’t care to look.

And more often than not, as you sorted through boxes of research and avoided touching anything questionable, your eyes would also wander over to the bloodstains on the dungeon floor. But the torture that occurred in the dungeon was far beyond your area of expertise. You were a researcher and nothing more. Except maybe, with Jack’s help, you finally could be something more.

The particular artifact that Jack had helped you brainstorm was a simple hourglass filled with translucent gold beads, one that might be used for decor if not for the nature of the object. It was tucked away on the shelf with files about angels and Nephilim— the Nephilim box was still fairly new, although you’d have plenty to add to it now. You made a beeline for it, pulling Jack along with you.

You looked at Jack expectantly, and he gazed back at you with absolute adoration. “Jack,” you whispered softly, and he seemed delighted to hear his name come from your lips.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

You leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. “Can you tell if it’ll work for us?” you asked. You had a general idea of how the Imperium Glass functioned, but Jack had a certain capacity for sensing the power of things. You were known for being reckless, but if the Imperium Glass had a high probability of actually killing you, you wanted to know beforehand.

Jack nodded and held a hand out towards the artifact. The gold beads encased in the glass began to glow as Jack’s brow creased in concentration. After about ten seconds, he lowered his hand.

“It’s powerful, but I can keep it under control. But are you sure you want to do this?”

“I don’t see the harm in it. All it does is transfer power from one person—or, well, being—to another. Plus it’s only temporary, so it’s not like I’m stealing power from you. If my memory’s correct, and I’m usually not wrong about cool artifacts and shit, then it’ll transfer a weakened version of your powers to me. But I can’t use my powers at the same time as you’re using yours or vice versa, so it’ll be perfect if I’m out on another solo hunt or I get into trouble and you’re not around to rescue me. And then once my allotted amount of power is up, we’ll be back to normal. I’ll finally have an actual chance at defending myself.” You grasped Jack’s face in your hands. “And I’ll be able to understand you better too. As my boyfriend.”

Jack smiled at the thought of that. “Okay, (Y/N). Let’s do it.”

Your Nephilim took one of your hands in his as both of you laid your other hand on the Imperium Glass and you whispered a few words in Latin. The gold beads began to shine again and a film of blue plasma appeared in the cinched center of the Glass. A few handfuls of gold beads floated to the top half of the Glass where they remained suspended, circling just above the plasma. You took a deep breath, feeling a cooling sensation rush down your throat. The air in the bunker suddenly tasted fresher than usual and you held Jack’s hand tighter. Jack pulled you into him in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the Imperium Glass pulsed once and then grew still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I thought I was so smart with the Imperium Glass thing because Imperium is “power” in Latin so it’s not an hourglass, it’s a POWERglass ( wheeze )
> 
> I’ve been working pretty hard on developing a backstory for this fic, although you won’t see the results of some of that until later… I hope it’s all worth it! There was also a teeny taste of smut in this chapter, but there’s more to come! And as always, I love love love Jack and I love all of you for reading this. Your comments and support motivate me more than you know! <3
> 
> P.S. I’m officially going to ChiCon summer 2021 and I literally don’t know what I’m going to do when I see Alexander Calvert. (This’ll be my second time going so I’ve already seen the fabulous Jensen, Jared, and Misha but I’m still going to lose my mind all over again.)


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